


We Can Shine All The Time

by Blink23



Series: Blue is the Color [1]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018) Actor RPF, Men's Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Football, Chelsea FC, Fluff, M/M, Things that make my little Scouser loving heart hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 07:02:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17976611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blink23/pseuds/Blink23
Summary: Ben Hardy was a good defender and a good lad who was too focused to date, who kept to his diet plan and didn’t blood dope or do drugs. He was plucked from his Bournemouth primary school team as a cheeky 12 year old for Arsenal’s youth academy, handed a senior contract with Celtic at 19, and signed for Chelsea at 22. Ben was a footballer for all the right reasons when so many Englishmen weren’t.The problem was, Ben Hardy also had a boyfriend who starred in movies that won Oscars and kissed him like he'd never want anyone else ever again.If the media ever found out, he’d be destroyed, even with the good will he had built up.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This legit makes my little Liverpool/Bayern Munich fangirl head hurt, but I had to.
> 
> The idea comes from the Ben-as-a-Chelsea-player AU [here.](http://sassypopstar.tumblr.com/post/183138243332) All the footballers mentioned are real people, the Hillsborough and Munich Air Disasters are real, etc. There are a few liberties with results (and that the next international break isn't for a few weeks) but other than that I basically tried to keep it as close to real as possible, including that British media would destroy anyone who attempted to come out while being an active player (they've done it before, and it ended in suicide.) A lot of this first bit is exposition tbh, but if people like it I'll probably write more, so...
> 
> Title comes from the Chelsea supporters song Blue is the Color. Oh, and if you don't know who [Carl Jenkinson](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carl_Jenkinson) is, that should explain a bit.

Ben’s fingers dig into the pitch and he sighs, exhausted. He allows himself a moment of bitter disappointment from knowing they’ve slipped to seventh place as he crouches before he’s up and making his rounds, shaking the ref and linesmen’s hands, applauding the fans in the clock end.

There’s a tiny girl in a Hardy kit waving frantically at him in the almost empty away section and he waves back, smiling as she jumps up and down, thrilled to be noticed. He hesitates for only a second before he jogs over and rips off his kit, leaning over the railing and gesturing for her to get closer, ignoring the phones that are whipped out and filming him without a shirt.

“What’s your name, darling?”

Her big brown eyes stare up at him in awe, “Prachi.”

“That’s a lovely name,” He says, handing over his sweaty shirt to her little trembling hands, “Sorry it’s a bit rank, but...”

“Can you sign it?” She asks, shy, “Please?”

He nods, smiling. The steward next to him produces a green sharpie and Ben signs it quickly, the little girl holding it secure for him, her knuckles white. He watches as she scurries up to what assumes is her mother and brother, offering the three of them a wave when they look at him before he turns and heads for the dressing room.

Jenko is waiting for him, throwing an arm around his shoulders as he’s walking down the tunnel, grimacing, “You alright mate? Even after that little wholesome act you still look like shite.”

“Fine.”

Carl looks at him. After nearly a decade of friendship born from sharing rooms and the pitch on international breaks, he knows him like the back of his hand and can tell when he’s lying better than almost anyone. 

“Mate…”

“I fucked up marking Mustafi on that corner. And the second goal was my fault.”

“Ben, you couldn’t do fuck all when it came to Laurent. And corner’s a corner, it happens-“

“Still-“

“You going to tell me what’s actually bothering you?”

He chews his lip. “Carl, it’s not-- well, I shouldn’t say it’s not… it’s a lot of things, and losing isn’t helping.”

Carl glances around, licking his lips, before he lowers his voice, “Boy problems?”

“No,” Ben sighs, “Not really. He’s just… gone. Until Tuesday— America, or whatever, with the rest of his cast. For the Oscars, and meetings, all that. And I leave for the call up, so I’ll see him for three hours and he’ll be exhausted. Then I won’t seem him for three weeks, between the international break and him being on holiday with his mates. With a match like that and knowing it’s going to be my fault for in the papers the next few days I could use something besides a cuddle from my dog and cheating on my diet with Nando’s.”

Carl grimaces, and pulls him into a hug.

“I’m sorry mate. Just… do us a favor and destroy Sweden on Friday, yeah? That’ll make you feel better about it, even without Gwil.”

Ben smiles into his shoulder, “I’ll try.”

Ben showers and gets on the bus to Cobham and avoids the media, not wanting to deal with it. Playing Arsenal always leads to questions about loyalty, about boyhood clubs and friends and rivalry. He’d rather avoid it. Over the last five years or so, he’d developed this reputation of gracefulness and tact, which meant while other players could get away with snapping at the media or acting like an asshole, he couldn’t. For the most part he couldn’t even get away with being himself, he had to be Chelsea FC's Ben Hardy.

Ben Hardy was a good lad who was too focused on football to date, who kept to his diet plan and didn’t blood dope or do drugs. He was plucked from a Bournemouth primary school team as a cheeky 12 year old for Arsenal’s youth academy, handed a senior contract with Celtic at 19, and signed for Chelsea at 22. A great English left back, who idolized Paolo Maldini and Roberto Carlos and cried like a baby when Philip Lahm called him one of the best currently in his position. The type of player that goes to memorial services for Hillsborough and Munich to prove there were things more important than club ties. Ben was a footballer for all the right reasons when so many Englishmen weren’t. 

The problem was, Ben Hardy also had a boyfriend who starred in movies that won Oscars and went to business lunches with Brian May and kissed him like he'd never want anyone else ever again. Who loved him so fiercely it sometimes terrified him, who wore Ben’s ring without a second thought even though it’d be years before they could live openly as a couple, who moved in when Ben broke his ankle last year and never left.

If the media ever found out, he’d be destroyed, even with the good will he had built up. 

God, he wanted Gwil. It had only been a few weeks but he felt like he was out of sync whenever Gwil was gone. Usually it didn’t make his game suffer, but he hadn’t been sleeping well without him taking up half their bed, the house is too quiet when he’s alone. It does his head in.

He leaves the lads when they get back to Surrey with a round of goodbyes a pat on the back from Sarri, making the drive back to London with the radio and his phone off. 

Frankie greets him at the door, tags rattling in excitement the second he gets the key in the lock. He drags her into his arms and carries her to the couch, laying back with her curled up on his chest. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, listening to the humming of his refrigerator and Frankie’s panting, just enjoying the almost silence for several minutes. Frankie stays put for a few of them, but hops down, shuffling off to the kitchen. Ben stretches out even more, luxuriating in being able to lie still and turn his tired brain off. 

He must fall asleep at some point, because his boyfriend that is not supposed to be here is staring down at him, smiling, when he opens his eyes.

When he says as much out loud, Gwilym laughs, and drops down to sit at his hip.

“Sorry to disappoint, love, but I am actually real,” He says, ghosting his fingers over Ben's jaw.

Ben surges up to kiss him, threading his fingers through his hair and not even caring that Gwil is laughing at his neediness against his lips.

“You’re supposed to have meetings and things, aren’t you?”

“I was supposed to, but then I realized I’d much rather be here, and left early.”

“Gwilym…”

“They weren’t that important Ben. Nothing I can’t do over the phone.”

"They don't fly you to New York for things if they aren't important, Gwil."

Gwil rolls his eyes, "Right, let me clarify: You're more important than them. I haven't seen you in what feels like ages and I missed you so much I spent most of _the Vanity Fair Oscar party_ whining to Joe about how much I wanted you with me. I needed to be here, you needed me here, so I came."

He says it matter of fact, like there isn't any doubt that Ben's the most important part of his life. With a sudden clarity, Ben remembers when he met Gwil; some event for cancer research, with a girl on his arm that his agent had deemed appropriate. One of the lads was dating an actress who’d done a short stint on Midsomer Murders, and she insisted they all just had to meet Gwilym, because he was the loveliest person she knew.

He was gone the minute their eyes met then and he was gone looking into those eyes now.

"I love you."

Gwil smiles, "I love you too, darling."

Just like that, everything in Ben’s life feels right again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I wasn't really intending to be writing this much exposition, but this is surprisingly hard. Basically, even with giving Ben his normal personality, his entire life's motivations change, and they have to be explained before anything can really move forward? So that means building the boy from the ground up, so to speak. Next chapter might have an actual plot, though.
> 
>  
> 
> Now, for the factual stuff for those of you who don't know a thing about football:
> 
> Match of the Day is basically... the institutional EPL highlight show in the UK. It's been on the BBC for 55 years.
> 
> Europa League is a secondary competition to the Champions League, which is basically the closest thing European football has to the super bowl. It actually kinda... complicated to explain in a few sentences, but basically it's for teams that finish their premier league season in the 4th-6th spots and are good but not as good as the best of the continent. 
> 
> FSG is Fenway Sports Group, run by John W. Henry. they own Liverpool FC, have stakes in a few different NASCAR racing competitions/teams, A minor league baseball team... and the Red Sox. They're the reason the Red Sox had a resurgence over the last fifteen or so years and have won the World Series four or five times, which is why Joe's probably not the biggest of fan.
> 
> @ftbllrswanimals, @worldsoccertalk, and @WAGNH_CFC are all real football twitters, the rest are fake (but very much how football twitter talks.) In my experience as an American follower of the PL and Bundesliga a lot of the fandom tends to take place on twitter, so we'll see more of it tbh.
> 
> Daniel Agger was Danish footballer that does have the best back in the history of football as well as [one of the best back tattoos](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/b7/92/1d/b7921dd97e327238841b249a1f600b67.png). Y'all can fight me on that, because you will lose. My love of Dagger is unending.
> 
> The Ox/Alex (Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain, current LFC/Former Arsenal player) Hazard (Eden Hazard, Chelsea/Belgium midfielder) Gareth (Gareth Southgate, England manager) and Abramovich (Roman Abramovich, Chelsea owner/Russian Oligarch/Putin's adoptive 'son-in-law' [yeaaahh you see why Ben might have issues being a gay man?]) are all real people.

__**@KlaraRose_ - Klara**  
_ 3hr_  
_idgaf about football but I just have to share this ADORABLE VIDEO my brother took of @29_bhardy giving his kit away at the match because her face when he said her name was lovely is something else: bit.ly/47p2..._

__

_**@A_Redinashed - nuzz-hat** _  
_ 2hr_  
_@KlaraRose_ @29_bhardy I CANT omg. Also seeing her idol tell her it’s a good name is so great when so many of us get shit on for having ethnic names_

_**@kreuzberger_tor - Daniel Agger's back tattoo** _  
_ 2hr_  
_@KlaraRose_ @29_bhardy Uggghhh fuck Chelsea but he’s so goddamn cute. #cometobrazil #imeanliverpool #itworkedforOx_

_**@ftbllrswanimals - footballers with animals** _  
_ 1hr_  
_Ben Hardy and his dog having a romantic dinner: bit.ly/sdf28..._

_**@worldsoccertalk - World Soccer Talk** _  
_ 54m_  
_Koscielny and Mustafi dominate as Chelsea falls to seventh: worldsoc.cr/2IOW186_

_**@WAGNH_CFC - We Ain’t Got No History** _  
_ 23m_  
_In case you’re wondering why your girlfriend, your sister, and your dog all love @29_bhardy more than they love you despite today's awful display, watch him look like a disney prince while giving his kit away after #AFCCFC: https://weaintgotnohistory.sbnation.com/2019/2/2…_

 

 

They take a nap on the couch after Ben changes out of his street clothes, flopping over Gwil’s chest without any sort of resistance. They end up ordering Thai food once Match of the Day comes on and argue over what to get to drown out the complaining about Ben's marking during Laurent's goal, and eating in the living room with Ben’s aching legs in his lap.

He feels a bit creepy, but he can’t stop looking or touching Gwil. Everything he does feels like it deserves Ben’s undivided attention, even licking red curry off his upper lip or scowling as he scrolls through his phone. No matter how bad he wants it, he knows they shouldn't have sex - he has a final training before the break in the morning and it’ll be murder on him if they do, even if it is a light post-match session - but he finds it’s not even that, really. He just want him close, he wants the reassurance and affection of someone who loves him. Ben’s never thought himself needy in relationships, but with Gwil the attention he needs is unending, even if it’s just him holding his ankles in his lap while they both sort through work emails with the TV on.

“Apparently twitter is all in a frenzy over you how perfect you are.”

Ben blinks at him from over his laptop, confused, “What for? I was rubbish.”

“For what you did after, with the little girl?” 

Ben shrugs, going back to the email from Adidas his agent sent him, “She was in my kit.”

Gwil rolls his eyes, “So? You signed it, too.”

“And?”

“And a lot of people wear Hazard’s kit, you don’t see him doing that after almost every match.”

“It’s an easy way to make kids happy,” he says, sounding aggressive to even his own ears, “What does it matter?”

He can feel Gwil staring at him. The words on his laptop screen don’t make sense anymore, but he refuses to look up.

“Hey, talk to me? Because you’re getting defensive and It doesn’t make sense.”

“Games are expensive. And… and there are people that literally travel from halfway around the world just to see a single game in the premier league. So if we fuck up - if I do poorly - and lose, I don’t want them to feel like it was a waste or… whatever. And disappointing kids is the worst of it. They don’t get that sometimes you just _lose_ , even if you do everything right, so if I can do something for them, it’s… I dunno.”

“Ben, you aren’t the only one on the pitch-”

“I know, but-”

Gwil squeezes his ankle, and he goes quiet. He gently sets Ben’s laptop and his own phone aside before pulling Ben into his lap, his hands on his waist and Ben’s thighs bracketing his hips.

“You can’t take every lost to heart, love. I know this means so much to you, and I know this season has been hard on you. You aren’t the only one on the team, and you have to remember that.”

Ben can't help but deflate a little, slumping to press his forehead to Gwil's neck and wrap his arms around his shoulders. As usual, Gwil knows what's bothering him, and what he needs. 

“We’re not even good enough to qualify for the Europa League right now. And next year I have Euros to think about and what if-” 

“Baby, you need to stop. That’s in a  _ year _ . You have time.”

“I don’t,” He feels so tired, suddenly, so sick of having the weight of everything on him, “I’ve got maybe eight years left in me if I'm optimistic, but I know it'll be more like six. Maybe can last for the World Cup after the Euros if I really buckle down to stay fit. If I don’t do this right and Gareth or Abramovich decides I’m losing my touch then…”

“If you do everything you’re doing now and they’re still unsatisfied you leave.”

“Where the hell else would I end up?” He pulls away to frown at his boyfriend. His career is so heavily tied to being one of Chelsea’s most devoted. He also knew his limitations as a player; while he was good enough for the Premiership and was technically at his peak, he was still close to thirty, his left ankle could be dodgy enough after last year’s break that he occasionally had to be taken off after rough tackles, and his goal scoring record was dismal even for a defender. He was wasn’t going to be wined and dined by the likes of Barcelona or Bayern Munich anytime soon.

“Dunno. Liverpool? Alex seems to love it there.”

He scoffs, affronted, “I’d get eaten alive by the Chelsea faithful.”

Gwil grins, “Joe’d probably never talk to again for having FSG as your bosses.”

“...He’d last all of three days, you know that.”

It was the truth. Gwil got along really well with Joe - more than that, really - but Joe had met Ben and it was like their minds melded into one. If Joe wasn’t straight it would probably worry Gwil how much the two of them talked.

Ben shifts in his lap to get off, raising his eyebrows when he realizes Gwil is half hard against him.

“Really?”

Gwil doesn’t even look sheepish. 

“Last time you were in my lap like this was four weeks ago and you were riding my cock and begging for me to cum inside you without a condom. My dick is only human.”

Ben can feel heat settle in his groin and cheeks as he remembers, "You know I want to, but-"

“Right then.”

Gwil stood from their couch, making Ben yelp and secure his legs around Gwil’s waist. Frankie barks before she seems to register that Gwil isn’t hurting him and lies back down on her bed.

“I was going to finish that with 'I have practice tomorrow!'”

Gwil just raises his eyebrows, carting him off to their bedroom.

“Well, then, you’ll just have to work hard on running straight, won’t you?”

__  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because there are so many, I'm just going to preface it with this: basically all of the England/Sweden players exist. Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain wouldn't be playing (he's been injured for almost a year at this point) but I love him and wanted him around. The Perrie referenced in Perrie from Little Mix, who is his girlfriend.
> 
> Jamie Carragher and Redknapp are both sky sports pundits and former footballers. Gary Neville is too, and him and Carra basically live to bicker. He rather famously told him that 'no one grows up wanting to be a Gary Neville,' which I referenced here.
> 
> Stevie is of course Steven Gerrard, who played for Liverpool for years and is now a manager in Scotland.
> 
> The World Cup in South Africa was in 2010, making Ben 20 when it was happening and about the right time for him to have his debut. He would've been the youngest in the squad, hence the nerves.

Ben leaves Gwil sleep soft and warm in their bed on Tuesday, pausing to kiss Frankie’s head where she lies in her own dog bed before he locks up behind him and makes his way to the car service waiting.

In an hour he’s sprawled on a hotel bed in Wembley, only the second to arrive after Harry. He thinks about calling Gwil, but it’s only nine and he doesn’t know if he’ll still be asleep, so he sends him a text and curls up on top of the covers, dozing until their team meeting and lunch.

He’s dazed when he manages to find the dining room, grunting a greeting at Hendo when he sits down with his plate, laughter his response. Welbz sits at his other side and attempts to steal a grape from his plate, only to get his hand smacked.

“Oi, why are you all miffed then?”

“He’s not,” Ruben says from across the table, “He’s just all sad because he’s got a bloke at home and he can’t be there to play missus. The state of him these last few days, mate… it’s enough to make you want to puke.”

He flips Ruben off, stuffing a piece of chicken in his mouth at the same time and making Hendo laugh. The food wakes him up, a little, even if it is the same boring balanced diet stuff that they’re used to.

The whole call up is methodical, Ben used to it after over seventy caps. Practice, team meetings, promo work, team dinners and xbox tournaments. Open hotel room doors on their floor, Dier and Dele wanting to know all the gossip about his boyfriend, Joe and Trent and Kyle in and out of his room. The same routine over and over for three days. They’re just playing friendlies, this time around; no pressure, but Ben still is grumpy and agitated for some reason, like he’s crawling out of his skin.

He talks to Gwil after retiring every day, sprawled on his hotel bed after his shower. He wishes they’d let them stay home for their time in London, even if he realizes this is just as much about team bonding as it is anything else. He just loves seeing that soft, sleepy face next to him, blinking at him from behind his glasses, rather than through a phone screen.

When he tells Gwil how wrong footed he feels, he just hums, sad little smile on his face.

“You’ll be fine, love. Just... leave it all on the pitch, yeah? All that aggression. I know you, you'll feel better once you've played.”

Ben sighs, hoping he's right.

 

 

_**International Friendly** _

Wembley Stadium

_England-Sweden_

_**3-1** _

_**21' [1]** -0 **B. Hardy**_

_**31'** H. Kane > M. Rashford_

_**42'**  1- **[1]** A. Jeremejeff     _

_**54' [2]-1 J. Henderson** _

_**56'** J. Stones > T. Alexander-Arnold_

_E. Dier > D. Alli_

_A. Fransson > T. Tekie_

_**79' [3]** -1 **B. Hardy**_

_**81'** A. Jeremejeff > M. Tankovic_

_S. Papagiannopoulos > J. Andersson_

 

He’s absolutely beaming as he gets off the pitch, bouncing on his heels. Dier tells him he looks like a bloody psychopath, but he doesn’t even care to respond.

He can’t believe he managed a brace. 

His goal tally for the season with Chelsea is only six, and he’s somehow managed a brace in less than 45 minutes.

He showers and is changing when he’s informed that Sky wants him for and interview and he groans, annoyed. He hates interviews, especially when he tends get asked why he does so much better for the national side than his own club, but he gets ready and waits in the tunnel impatiently, bouncing from one leg to the other nervously. 

“Do you want me to hold your hand, like?”

Ben rolls his eyes, smiling when he hears the familiar scouse, “fuck off, Carra.”

Jamie just grins at him, cheeky. It’s something of a joke, with them; When Ben had made his debut with the senior side in South Africa, he had been terrified, stock still and panicking in the tunnel while everyone else had been ready to go for their second game of the World Cup. Stevie had been able to tell he was nervous and had grabbed his hand, giving him a squeeze and telling him he was a good lad and he’d be just fine, and Ben had refused to let go, their fingers laced. Carra had looked at the two of them, made a face and told Stevie he could find a better boyfriend, and Ben had dropped his hand instantly, making everyone around him chuckle.

At the time it had made him nervous, to have someone joke about boyfriends, until he learned just how much Jamie didn’t give a shit, and only caring that he could use it to tease him for the rest of his life.

Redknapp scoots by him then, clapping him on the shoulder before he wanders down the hall.

“Well at least it’s not Neville,” Ben mutters, wincing. Despite his whining about homegrown players staying in the English top flight, Gary has always treated him with utter contempt, and acted like he was more there to be pretty and sell kits than play football.

“Fuckin’ Gary,” Jamie rolls his eyes, “As much as the team you play for is utter shite, he should be the last one to talk. No one grows up loving Gary Neville.”

Someone in a bright green media vest calls for the two of them and they make there way down the tunnel and to the desk that’s been set up, Ben being fit with an ear piece before waiting for their cue from who ever is back in the studio.

The interview is quick, and it’s barely five minutes before he’s being unhooked, shaking hands and allowed to scramble back to the bus. He goes through his normal post match routine at the hotel; a longer shower than the basic rinse of the locker room, a nap, and then a facetime call to Gwilym.

Midway through, when Ben is lounging on his stomach and discussing something stupid Joe texted him earlier, Alex all but jumps on top of him, wrestling the phone from his hand. The ensuing scuffle finds Alex on his back, grinning victoriously at the phone held over his head, while ben was left to sprawl on his chest.

“Hello, Ben’s Welsh boyfriend!”

Gwilym laughs through the screen, “Hi Alex. Enjoying yourself?”

“Oh absolutely mate, it’s brilliant to be back with the lads,” He smiles, flashing his dimples, “We’re going to steal this fine young man from you though. Gaffer’s given the go ahead for us to go have a drink and dinner out and we aren’t leaving young Benjamin alone to be a sad bastard in this room.”

“...The boys want to use him to pick up women, yeah?”

“Pretty much,” Alex laughs, “I don’t have to worry ‘bout me, with Perrie and all that, but some of these ugly arseholes think his pretty little face can draw them in and they can hook ‘em.”

Behind Alex’s shoulder, Ben mouths _Help me_ and Gwil just laughs, the bastard.

“Don’t get him too drunk, Ox. You have no idea how bad he can be when hungover.”

“Need I remind you that I have known him longer than you have. I know how to handle him, especially when he gets drunk and mouthy.”

Gwil grins, something filthy lurking under it, “I doubt you know how to handle his mouth better than I do.”

“Ugh, gross!” Alex laughs, his cheeks going red, “You are a mature adult, Gwilym Lee! You’re not supposed to make jokes like that!” 

Ben wrestles the phone from him, already sick of this conversation.

“I’m hanging up now, before I die of embarrassment. I love you. I’ll call you later.”

“I love you too darling. Have fun.”

The call ends and seconds later Alex is shoving him into his bathroom to get ready, giving him no choice.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Olivier Giroud is a Chelsea/French NT player. A few years back got caught sneaking a woman into the team hotel before a match. When he denied it, his mistress got pissed and sold pictures from that night of him in his underwear to the tabloids. Total power move tbh.
> 
> Erik Durm plays for Huddersfield Town in the PL, and is part of the German NT. [ He's ridiculously pretty](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kVSQaj3M3eo).
> 
> 2009 Under-20 World Cup took place in Egypt, which is where they both would've 'played' as England drew against Germany. Funnily enough Erik was actually too young - at this point he was still with the U-18 side as an 18 year old, and stayed with youth teams until early 2014 - but I hadn't checked the squad list until after I had written this and was too set with the idea of the two of them fooling around in some Egyptian hotel as teens and being boyfriends.
> 
> U-bahn is the German word for subway, and Englischer Garten is a massive public park (think Central/Hyde Park but in the middle of Munich.) Hofbräuhaus is one of the oldest in Munich and is a huge tourist thing. 
> 
> What I say here about seeing player in public is essentially true; in Germany, it's considered disrespectful to bother players when they're out and about outside of things like practice or club/team events. When I was living in Köln I actually ran into Jonas Hector in public and stared at him and got chastised by a friend for it, even though I didn't bother him.

Ben gets the appeal of going to clubs, sort of - it’s somehow easy to both make your fame disappear while also being the center of attention - but Ben’s always found it claustrophobic. He’s sure it has something to do with publicly being in the closet; in a dark club, drunk, with girls fawning all over you and your friends, it doesn’t make sense not to indulge. There’s no cameras around, and most of the places they frequent take their privacy very seriously. If he wants to get his dick sucked in a bathroom stall no one will notice or care.

Therein lies Ben’s problem.

Dinner was fine, and he had fully intended to skip this part of the outing with his mostly married teammates who had left as he usually did, but everyone else had goaded him until he agreed. Most of the team has scattered to the dance floor or less savory locations with girls within an hour. (Un)fortunately for Ben doing so well that afternoon means not having to pay for drinks, and that meant sticking around with people he didn’t really know and women that wouldn’t leave him alone.

He manages to lose the third Geordie Shore look alike who’s giggling and inviting him back to hers for the back patio, claiming he needs a cigarette even though he doesn't smoke. The fresh air clears his head and he has his phone out and calling a car within a few minutes. They’ve been here for three hours already, he’s sure no one would notice, and honestly Ben is bored being drunk on his own.

He’s wondering if he should go back in to let someone know he’s leaving when he gets tapped on the shoulder. When he turns around, there’s a tiny woman there, her eyes widening when she catches sight of his face.

“Shit - sorry, I didn’t realize it was-” She laughs, her american accent a stark contrast to those around her, “I just thought you were some random guy.”

“It’s fine. Most Americans don’t even recognize me, so you're actually ahead, love.”

“My brother hates you, so…” she shrugs, grinning.

“Man United?”

“Bayern. Our dad’s from Rosenheim, Mom’s from Chicago,” She shrugs again, “he’s still bitter about the champions league.”

“Makes sense I guess.”

“Yeah,” she laughs.

“What was the favor…?” He asks, and she shakes her head.

“It’s not-”

“Try me.”

“There’s a weird ass dude that’s been trailing me, more or less, and I have no fucking clue where my friends are. I was gonna ask if you’d walk me out, since you’re not smoking and the back exit is only there. I didn’t realize you were… you, and I don’t want to like... complicate things for you and whatever instagram model you’re probably dating.”

“I actually was planning on leaving, and there is no model girlfriend, so I’ll be more than happy to do it. You’ll probably have to ask the driver, but you should be fine.”

She blinks at him, like she wasn’t sure what to make of his offer.

“Oh. Okay…?”

He smiles, “Right. Come on then.”

He laces his fingers with hers, held tight so they don't lose each other, and they move through the back patio and out to a car in minutes.

  
  

England Caught Partying After Win at Wembley

_While teammates party on, game winner Ben Hardy leaves early with blonde_

 

 

He’s groaning into his granola, feeling worse for wear but thankfully not hungover, when he sees the headline. He’s one of only a handful in their dining room, and his friends aren’t anywhere in sight, so when their goalkeeper coach comes around with a copy of The Sun and drops it in front of him he can be embarrassed in peace. He reads the article - total rubbish, they even compare him to _Olivier_ , like it’s as bad as cheating on his wife - and pulls out his phone, pulling up Gwil.

_If you see the headlines, just want you to know I hate that iPhones have such nice cameras._

He doesn’t receive a response from Gwil right away, but considering he’s leaving for holiday tomorrow it doesn’t surprise him. He’s probably got too many things to do.

He only gets a response a few hours later when they’re waiting to board their flight to Munich for their match in five days.

_Oh god… I just saw when I was at tescos. What am I supposed to tell our daughter, Benjamin?!_

There’s a photo attached and he laughs, looking at Frankie, dressed in a tiny dog hoodie and looking unimpressed in the park.

“Got yourself a boyfriend then?”

His eyes snap up to his gaffer.

“Uh.”

Gareth smirks. They’ve always had a weird dynamic; Gareth is a great manager, but aware of Ben’s sexuality, and tries his hardest to make sure no one has anything bad to say about it. It sometimes makes him feel like a teacher’s pet, getting singled out, even though he knows he’s just doing his job when it comes to checking on his mental state.

“That looks as good as a yes. He’s a good bloke? Not a player?”

“Yes. No, uh… Actor,” He bites his lip, not sure how much he should give away, but also knowing this manager won’t tell, “He used to work with one of my mate’s ex’s.”

He grins, “Some pretty boy on your arm then.”

“He’s… well, he is pretty, but I don’t… he’s not… like that. He’s older than I am, actually.”

He sobers a bit at that, looking worried, “He’s not taking advantage…?”

“No,” Ben shakes his head, “He’s not some… has been, or trying to live off me or anything. He actually does really well by himself. Lots of theater and telly, and uh… he was Brian May in the Queen movie that just came out. The one that won all those awards.”

Gareth whistles low, “Moving up in the world, then.”

Ben shrugs, frankly feeling a little embarrassed, and Gareth just studies him. 

“Ben, I just… want to make sure you know what you’re doing,” He says, serious, “I know you try to keep your nose clean, but with this girl-”

“It wasn’t anything, Gareth, I promise,” He insists, “they dropped her home and I went back to the hotel and facetimed my boyfriend. She just wanted to get away from some creep, is all, and I figured I’d help.”

“If you’re sure...”

“Positive. She probably won’t think about it past telling some of her mates." 

Gareth doesn’t say anything else, just looking worried, and Ben manages to get on the plane, scurrying to his seat next to Jordan without any more embarrassment.

“Didja see what’s on the entertainment system?'

He groans when he sees the movie they’re advertising.

“I swear to god, I’m never going to hear the end of it, am I?”

Hendo grins.

“Just be glad I’m nicer than Chambo and won’t make you clap along with We Will Rock You.”

 

Munich is lovely, as always.

Ben’s always thought that if he had to leave England, he would’ve liked to have come here. It’s a proper football city in a proper football country, but there’s something about the Germans that makes them hold off and let them be private. When on the pitch, they’re gods, but when off they’re normal people, and both the press and the fans get that. They go to practice and press conferences and do what they have to do, but are given free reign on their off time. Ben only gets stopped once by an American family, their 10 year old son stuttering out that Ben's his favorite while he signed his tram ticket. He and Dier even take the U-Bahn to Englischer Garten one afternoon and didn’t even get looked at. He can only imagine what it’s like if you live here and they’re used to seeing you.

Ben doesn’t play in the match. He did well against Sweden, but Gareth has called up so many young kids this time around he wants new blood. Instead, he and Alex sit on the bench and talk shit, watching Trent boss the field and think about the German food they want to drag everyone to Hofbräuhaus for later.

They draw anyway, not that it’s much of a surprise. No one wants injuries this deep in the season, so close to the final eight of the Champions League they can almost taste it. They won't start Euro qualifications until the next call up anyway, so it doesn't matter much, everyone waiting on those months to really bring the competitiveness out.

Ben greets the few guys he knows when the match ends; he and Ilkay chat for a bit, and Serge talks his ear off about what it’s like being back in Germany after Arsenal. Neuer pulls him into a hug, slapping him on the back, and he asks after Thomas, Mats and Jerome, which gets him and earful about Jogi Löw’s choices.

Then there’s Durm.

Erik has been watching him since the pre-match warm up, and he can feel his eyes on him as he and Manu chat.

Their history is complicated, and uncomfortable, and Ben’s realized years ago that getting a blowjob in an empty conference room in Alexandria at 19 and spending a year in a long distance relationship that ended in tears and a screaming match wasn’t a good idea, so he doesn’t approach him.

Erik apparently hasn’t realized it, because when Ben turns around to head for the tunnel his there, less than a foot away.

“Erik.”

“Ben,” He says, smiling shyly, “It has been long. You are good? And the girlfriend?”

“Not my girlfriend, mate, “ Ben says, wincing, “Just a stupid tabloid thing. Still gay.”

“Oh,” something odd flits over his face, “So just you are good?”

“Yeah. And Huddersfield is alright?”

Erik shrugs, “It’s… different, but I do like it. It’s... lonely, sometimes, being in England.”

Durm chews his full bottom lip and looks at him with big eyes and Ben shivers.

“I should… go. The boys will be wondering about me.”

Ben absolutely will deny running away like a little girl if anyone asks.

 

 

**Bens_Hardys**

_So apparently that girl that in those pictures with Ben decided to post on her insta and then delete that she thinks he’s gay af lmaaooooooo_

 

**Blue_23 <>Bens_Hardys**

_Huh? Why?_

 

**Bens_Hardys <>Blue_23**

_Looool he told her he had no girlfriend but got a call in the cab and was like … clearly talking to a S/O and kept calling that person babe and love and was drunk af and the called him gwilym too. So not so much proof as one girl mad he’drather joke with a friend that fuck her._

 

**Neuuerx <>Bens_Hardys**

_High jacking this for borhap stan tumblr because have you seen these though?_

_Instagram.com/p/sd5..._

_Instagram.com/p/urY..._

 

**Bens_Hardys <>Neuuerx**

_That’s… the same Kitchen. What the fuck is Gwil doing in his house?_

_Also A+ stalking bb_

 

**Neuuerx <>Bens_Hardys**

_Lmao thanks? I just looked up Gwil’s insta wondering if **that** was the Gwilym bc I don’t know any others. _

 

**Neuuerx <>Neuuerx**

_UM I WENT LOOKING AT BENS BACK LIKE TWO YEARS BECAUSE I’M PATHETIC AND THERE’S A PICTURE OF HIM AND HIS DOG??? WITH GWIL IN THE MIRROR???? LIKE HE’S TAKING IT????_

_Instagram.com/p/dsjfkwew..._

 

**KillerQueen_imagines <>Neuuerx**

_Idk are they friends? Like have they met before?? I have no clue about soccer_

 

**deacyatthedisco <>KillerQueen_imagines**

_There’s this from the baftas when England NT guys went twitter.com/d... and I don't want to start shit but I mean look at how Ben looks at Gwil._

_And Gwil has gone to Chelsea matches before? And sat in the club owned seating. Joe went with him a few times, remember? He posted on insta about not knowing how it worked and the songs the Chelsea fans were singing._

 

**Fuck_off_ChelseaFC <>deacyatthedisco**

_...Ben's looking at him like he wants Gwil to find to nearest horizontal surface for them to fuck on and tbh_ same.

 

**WAG_Fashion <>Fuck_off_ChelseaFC**

_James Forrest dated/married one of Gwil’s costars who he’s friendly with and Ben and James seem to still be good friends, so it’s not unreasonable to think they might’ve met and become friends._

_Ben has always been very ‘fuck you’ when it comes to all the macho bullshit with football, and been very open about the fact that he understands why gay players don’t come out but would support anyone who did, gladly play alongside them, etc. so it’s not a stretch that him hanging out with a bisexual dude or having him around and not making a big deal out of it. It’s honestly probably nothing._

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD THIS WAS SO DIFFICULT. Seriously needed this chapter to happen but it would not come to me. I'm not really happy with it either, but I need to before all the good stuff can happen and I've been staring at this for weeks so here we are.
> 
>  
> 
> There's nothing you really need to know about this chapter, except that Chelsea beating Man City would be a big deal: Liverpool and City are separated by two points in the league right now (each win is worth three) so Chelsea beating them would be HUGE for Liverpool (and also why Stevie G would absolutely send Ben a bottle of whiskey worth £2,700.)

The break ends, he goes home, and things ramp up at the club. Practices are brutal, the Europa League fixture coming up, and in those days without him he doesn’t even have it in him to miss Gwil he’s so tired. When he comes home - his cheeks sunburnt and the alpine air apparently doing wonders to relax him - Ben just grumbles into his neck he’s happy to have him home, nuzzling in and nearly falling asleep on him standing up.

In the end it doesn’t even matter; Ben gets the stomach flu two days before they’re set to leave for Kyiv, and he’s instructed to stay home and rest. He watches the match tucked up in bed with Gwil, feeling weak from vomiting so much over the last few days and only being able to keep down broth and tea.

“Remind me never to get you pregnant,” Gwil grumbles jokingly when Ben whines about being hungry but not being able to eat, “I can only imagine how bad you’d be.”

Ben shakes his head, feeling especially fond, “You’d do it in a heartbeat, don’t lie. You love kids.”

Gwil shrugs. He had more or less accepted not having kids a long time ago, but it became especially apparent it wasn’t going to happen when he all but married Ben. 

“I’m alright with our only child having four legs. Plus I’d rather not deal with you whining about how I made you fat.”

Ben, feeling like an asshole, pushes his stomach out, as far as he can, and places a hand on it, like he was cradling a baby bump and pouts.

"Does that mean you wouldn't love me if I looked like this?' 

Gwil nearly shoves him out of bed for it.

Gwil is staying put - his next film is being shot in London, and he has time before pre-production anyway - and they go back to fitting into each other with total ease. It’s amazing how good it is for his mental state to wake up to his boyfriend in their bed and come home to him sifting through his notes on their couch or making them dinner. They hang out with their friends and post stupid photos on instagram and play with their dog and facetime Joe from their couch to talk about spending the team’s preseason in New York. It’s nice, to feel normal for once.

The team win against Spurs, then against Sheffield. The loss at Bournemouth is a shock, and Ben is glad his ankle is bothering him and he watches it from the bench. They bounce back against Huddersfield, and he receives a good amount of shit from Carl for how he all but runs from Erik in the final whistle. They win against Man City and Ben gets named man of the match. Afterwards he receives a bottle of 40 year old Glenfiddich from Stevie in the mail and a note that makes him laugh so hard he nearly drops it. 

They’re doing all right, and any sort of negativity he has for this season is starting to ebb away in favor of it being a mediocre, but not the worst he’s had. 

Of course, that means something had to happen.

“I don’t want to.”

His agent grimaces across the table. When he had called him for a lunch to ‘see how things are’ he knew something was up. Mark only talked to him face to face when he had something shitty to tell him. This certainly counted.

“I know it’s not ideal, but-”

“Honestly, why do I even have to? Going to some event I wouldn’t attend anyway with a random model on my arm just makes it seem like something’s up. It’s not like everyone doesn’t know I don’t really publicly date.”

“That’s the point, really. Of you’re not interested in any of the women throwing themselves at you, what are you into?”

“Why does it have to matter? No one notices me and except the teenagers that follow me on Instagram.”

“But they do notice.”

They do. Ben knows this. He also knows they squeal over him and Carl hanging out, or how comfortable he is around Ox. A lot of them also squeal over Gwil’s friendship with Joe and how clingy Rami can be with him. It’s not that big of a deal to them, but he does know who is more than a little concerned.

“Did Roman put you up to this?”

“No, but he shares my thoughts.”

Ben rolled his eyes. More like he hated that one of the fan’s favorites was gay.

“What? That I’m a faggot and there’s something wrong with that?”

Marks eyes widen and shift around the room, horrified at the thought of someone hearing him. Ben just rolls his eyes; the restaurant was the type of place where discretion was basically on the menu, and Ben could give Gwil a handjob in a corner booth and no one would say a word.

“I’m just putting forth the suggestion-”

“Well it’s shit suggestion when I have a partner.”

He doesn’t want a fake girlfriend when he has a real boyfriend at home. For Ben it felt too much like cheating for him to be comfortable with it.

“There are other options, I’m sure we can look into something else.”

“Good.”

Ben tries to put the whole thing out of his mind and mostly succeeds. He doesn’t talk about it with Gwil, not wanting to upset him. He knows Gwil wouldn't necessarily _want_ him to do it, but would see his agent’s point. They’ve fought about it before - one of the only things they fight about, really - and it’s supremely frustrating for him. Gwil understands how important everything is to him, and doesn’t mind. Ben, however, does, and he doesn't want to even think of it. He's been in that position with his exes, and he knows how much it actually hurts to see them parade someone else around on their arm even when you know it's fake. 

Two weeks later he strains his groin. Gwil is in Wales for a week for a friend’s wedding and Carl has a sprained ankle so he comes around and they eat junk and watch Saturday’s matches. He brings it up when Liverpool’s game is in halftime and Carl mutes the commentary, biting his lip and staring at Ben.

“It’s not the worst idea-“

“Carl-“

“Not the actual date, but starting rumors,” he shrugs, “post a picture with a female friend on insta and let people talk. Something like that.”

Even though he thinks it’s dumb, he brings it up when Mark calls him to discuss a charity event he’s going to attend. He goes quiet, thinking for a moment, before he hums and insists they’d need something more concrete, or at least more scandalous. They need something to get people talking, not just noticing.

Ben thinks his agent is a moron.

Gwil comes home a few days later, Ben blinking awake when he feels the familiar scratch of his beard against his neck and cheeks as he kisses him.

“I’m up.”

Gwil chuckles against his skin, “Go back to sleep, love.”

Ben curls around himself, tugging the blankets up his chin and dozes. He can hear Gwil puttering around their bedroom - opening drawers, the sink in the bathroom turning on, retrieving his phone from his bag - but he stays put, warm and comfortable and relaxed. 

It isn’t until Gwil sits down next to him that he opens his eyes again.

Gwil’s eyes are big, bright and looking incredibly nervous.

“There’s something you should see, but I don’t want you to get mad.”

Ben frowns, “Why…?”

“There’s a story about you in the papers.”

Ben rolls his eyes, “There’s a lot of stories about me in the papers.”

“Not like this, darling.”

Gwil hands over his phone, and Ben nearly drops it in shock when he reads the headline.

 

**Premiership Footballer Caught Out With Teammate's Girlfriend  
Ben Hardy out and about with woman despite groin injury keeping him off the pitch ******

"Gwil I wouldn't."

"I know, darling, we've talked about this-"

"There's no pictures. No name, even, just something about protecting the other player. It's just some bullshit-"

"Ben," Gwil says, looking worried when he doesn't get a response, "Benjamin."

Ben looks up at him, chewing his lips, "Why would this be what they go with? And without my permission? Or a warning? Is me being gay that awful?"

"No, love, it's not," Gwil leans down, kissing his forehead, "Were going to fix this, alright? It's going to be okay."

Ben wishes he could believe him.


	6. Chapter 6

“We didn’t come up with this.”

Mark’s face is pale when he enters their house, his skin clammy, and Ben is inclined to believe him. He seems overwhelmed, and Ben knows he’s probably been answering a million questions for the last several hours this has been the front page of The Sun.

“As far as we know - and we have a pretty good reason to believe it’s the truth - someone got a little overeager. Some blind item got published online somewhere and they assumed it was you, when really it’s one of the lads at West Ham. Then they heard grumblings from someone in the office that you were with someone that had to be kept secret-” he glances at Gwil, “ -and well…”

“So we just tell them is a lie?”

“And we can sue for defamation,” Mark confirms, “They published this on a fucking rumour about someone else that they don’t even know if it’s true or not.”

“Won’t they have to have proof?”

“We’ll get an injunction. All that will take time, but…”

“Won’t that make people talk more?”

“It’s either that or they think you’re sleeping with your teammate's wife.”

Ben scrubs a hand over his face. Both sound like shit, but the first option is his best bet. He knows he’ll just have to distance himself from Gwil for a bit, until the interest in him is back to teenage girls on Tumblr and grown men calling him shit on twitter. 

“There is something else that can happen that would prove it wasn’t true.”

It takes Ben a few seconds to realize what Gwil is getting at. 

“Gwil...”

“No, we could-” Gwil's breath hitches in his throat and Ben takes his hand, squeezing, “It’s a big decision, but...”

Ben thinks about what that would mean. He had asked about it once, when he first came to Celtic. They had been horrified at the thought of him wanting to come out to anyone outside the club and his family, worried about what the media would do to him, so he had quickly put an end to any thought on that matter. He didn't even have a boyfriend or anything, so it wasn't like he felt all that bad about it. When he left he didn't even bother asking again, because Ben was Chelsea’s 18 million dollar gamble, and he knew how Roman was.

Everything would be different now. The press would be insane, there was no doubt about that. He would probably spend the next several years having slurs screamed at him whenever he touched the ball. Not to mention the fact that they've got a lot of freedom compared to most since Ben tends to fly under the radar, and it will all be ruined this way. And Gwil... people know Gwil isn't straight or single, but it’s different knowing someone’s straight and not single versus them having a partner who’s the same sex that they can put a name to.

They could get married if they wanted, though. Or have kids. In a year or two there could be tiny, gorgeous little boys or girls that look like Gwil running around underfoot, that his husband takes to his matches and wear tiny kits with Papa on their backs, that come with to do the lap of honor on the last day of the season and sleep in between them when they get scared at night. The thought settles in Ben’s chest with and he's surprised the feeling overwhelming him is want.

“That’s not impossible to do.”

“It's also almost impossible to know how everyone's going to respond to this, but for most people it's not going to be positive.”

“But they do it in Sweden, and in America-”

“But this is the premiership. This is completely different.”

“You don’t want this?”

“There will be a million things said about you in the press, Gwil. It’s not just me. I want you to think about that.”

“You don’t need to worry about me, love. This is about you. Do you want this?”

Ben doesn’t know what to say. His first instinct is to say yes - why wouldn’t it be? - but there is so much that goes into it. This isn’t just a yes or no question. 

“Ben,” Mark says, serious, “I’ve known you since you were fourteen. If you want to do this - really want to - you know I’ll be in your corner.”

“I don't... I'd need to think it over.”

Mark nods, "You take what time you need."

The subject gets changed to something else entirely, something much safer. The PR firm that works for Ben works for Gwil as well, and Mark asks after the next film he has lined up, something he’s heard about through the gossip of their offices. Ben listens, but doesn’t add anything to it, his mind consumed with the choices he has laid out for him. 

Mark leaves, and they go about their normal afternoon routine. Ben's been allowed to skip practice - he'll pay his fine, he doesn't care, and Sarri made it clear he understands why - so he stays holed up at home, cuddling the dog and thinking about their future.

He tries to give Gwil space, just like he knows Gwil is doing the same for him, but he finally has to ask the question that's been rolling around his brain when Gwil sits in their lounge with him and refuses to even look at him. 

“Can I ask why this is what your mind jumped to? I mean, you’ve never brought up me coming out before, and you’ve always been alright with how things are. Unless you haven’t, and I’ve just been dragging you down, and-”

“Ben, stop,” Gwil shakes his head, pulling Ben’s legs into his lap, “This just seems like the perfect out, really. I know you love me, and I love you. I know we’re in this for the long haul, and people knowing everything about it doesn’t matter, but it seems like such a no brainer to just say ‘hey, this is my partner, and he’s a man’ instead of dealing with injunctions so you can sue and make it go away and all that, especially when you know it really won’t make it go away.”

“Would you be mad if I said no?”

“God no,” Gwil frowns, “You know I’m happy as long as I have you.”

“I know,” Ben chews at the inside of his lip, “I just… do need to think. I wasn't lying.”

“I can take Frankie out, if you’d like? You don’t have to decide now, but time on your own might be good.”

“Please.”

Gwil kisses him before getting up, bundling himself into a coat and calling for their dog.

He thinks about texting Joe, asking what he thinks, or maybe Carl, or Ox. Hell, even Perrie might be a good one to ask; she’d dealt with the media cheating shitshow in the form of Zayn Malik, and might be able to give him some insight on what dealing with rumours like this would entail if he went with the injunction. He knows she would gladly do it, as sweet as she is.

Instead he ends up flipping through his twitter, his facebook, his instagram, All his social media in general. He goes through tumblr, even, and finds all the weird think pieces about this rumour, and the shipping with him and Carl and Alex. 

He ends up flicking through his is camera photos he doesn’t share. He lands on an old one, frowning as he studies it.

It a picture Joe took during one of the nights the guys had all spent at theirs during filming. Ben’s sitting on the kitchen benchtop with Gwil in between his legs, his arms around him from behind. He can tell Gwil’s a little drunk from his facial expression, though he doubts anyone with an untrained eye could pick that up. He’s arguing with Rami about something; he can see the man’s shoulder and part of the right side of his head, his hands tossed up like he’s trying to make a point. Aaron’s broad shoulders are next to him on one of the stools around their island, his face turned to grin at his onscreen husband, eighties mustache in full glory. Ben’s lips are pressed to Gwil’s shoulder and he can tell from the way his eyes are crinkled he’s smiling. 

He hears the shower go on down the hall, and Frankie’s tags jingle as she leaves their entryway for the kitchen. His boyfriend warming up after walking their dog in the chilly early spring afternoon. Utterly domestic.

He selects the photo, filters it in black and white, and begins to write. 

Twenty minutes later Gwil emerges from the hall, his hair damp and in sweatpants and a too big jumper. Ben hands his phone off without a word, and Gwil’s eyes widen as he reads what he’s written. 

“Is it too much?”

Gwil shakes his head.

“I think it’s perfect, love. Do you want me to…?”

Ben exhales through his nose. 

“Yes.”

Gwil taps the screen a few times, swiping up to close instagram. He presses a kiss to his hair before he hands the phone back to Ben.

Ben turns it off completely, smiling up at Gwil when the screen finally goes black.

“So, I’m thinking we should get Japanese for dinner? I don't much feel like cooking and I want Udon from that place in Soho…”

 __ **@BriarRose____ - Mari**  
_ 1hr_  
_As a lifelong Man City supporter I just have to say GOOD FOR YOU HARDY: instagam.com/p/47p2..._

__

__**@Fussball__Nien- Joey**  
_ 1hr_  
_‘I’m very happy with my sexuality and life and don’t feel the need to be afraid of it anymore.’ This honestly makes me want to cry._

__**@Radio__Blah - Janie Mercury-Hutton**  
_ 1hr_  
_so @29_bhardy is apparently the BF Gwilym Lee wouldn’t shut up about during the promo tour and I am SO MAD we didn’t get cute AF pictures of them on the red carpet together t b h_

__**@Nic0352 - Nico**  
_ 1hr_  
_lmao of course Hardy’s a faggot. Is anyone surprised? Not like he can play football. Hopefully he pulls a Fashanu_

__

**@ItsRamiMalek - Rami Malek**  
_ 1hr_  
_It makes me extremely proud to see someone I consider a friend live happily and unashamed of who they are. I love you both._

__**@stonewalluk - Stonewall**  
_ 47m_  
_Chelsea and England international footballer Ben Hardy takes to instagram to come out of the closet and clear up rumors: ‘If I’m in love and happy, why is that something to be ashamed of?’ stonewall.org.uk/2IO19..._

**@piersmorgan- Piers Morgan**  
_ 43m_  
_Interesting that Ben Hardy has been consistently mediocre for the last few years and now that people are finally realizing it he pulls a stunt like this to get everyone on his side again_

__**@garylineker - Gary Lineker**  
_ 40m_  
_@piersmorgan Mad you didn’t think to hack his phone so you could out him when he was a lad, eh?_

__**@MazzelloJoe - Joe Mazzello**  
_ 39m_  
_It's a miracle. @29_bhardy has not only managed to make everyone feel sad and alone over how in love with Gwil he is, it's also managed to get @ItsRamiMalek to tweet! (and I expect a photo credit for taking that picture!)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a brief history of gay men who play football:
> 
> Justin Fashanu was the first openly gay footballer, who came out in 1990. He committed suicide eight years later, when he was 37. For a long time, he was like... the story of why you didn't come out, why it'd never be accepted, etc.
> 
> Anton Hysén plays in the Swedish second division and came out in 2011, only the second after Fashanu, and is the son of Glenn Hysén, a former LFC player. Robbie Rodgers came out a few years later, and played in Major League Soccer for a couple years before injury forced him to retire, becoming the first openly gay man to play in a major American sports league. Collin Martin from Minnesota United FC in the MLS is currently the only openly gay man in any top-flight football league in the world.
> 
> Piers Morgan is a total fucking asshole who doesn't know shit about football, but for whatever reason be seems to think he's an unofficial spokesperson for Arsenal and their fans. I have yet to meet a single Arsenal fan who agrees with him 99% of the time. The phonehacking is something that did happen when Piers was in charge of a tabloid; they did it to multiple celebrities, as well as a 13 year old murder victim. They deleted a voicemail from that 13 year old's phone, leading her parents and the police to believe she was still alive when she was actually dead for a few days. The whole thing is super fucked up.
> 
> Gary Lineker is a former English player/current MOTD pundit. He fucking hate Piers and spends a lot of time giving him shit on twitter.
> 
> (Also: there is actually a really great udon place in Soho. It's called Koya.)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnnd that's it.
> 
> I actually intended this to be two chapters, but reading it back I just realized how much of it was filler, so I ended up just turning it into one. I'll probably write more of this, but it'll be one shots and random bits, nothing long.
> 
>  
> 
> Chelsea fans really did get caught making racist comments about Mo Salah who is Muslim and Egyptian just before the first leg of Slavia Prague. 
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> When you score a hat trick, you're given the match ball used after the game ends, and most people have their whole team sign it.
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> Thomas Hitzlsperger came out in 2014, a year after he retired, which is why Ben is technically the first out active footballer. Hitzlsperger runs the youth academy at Stuttgart now.

_Richard Heath / Getty Images_

_**Chelsea Football Club’s Ben Hardy warms up with his teammates ahead of the Club’s match against West Ham United. After a social media post on Wednesday, Hardy became the first openly gay man to play in the Barclays Premier League, and second BPL player to come out after retired West Ham and German international Thomas Hitzlsperger.** _

The thing about coming out in Football that surprises Ben the most is how little it actually affects his life.

He and Gwil are generally normal, boring people who happen to have exciting jobs, which probably helps, but it still confuses him. He had a few different worries when he decided to do this, and the paparazzi staking out his every move was one of them. Getting to practice those first few days is a nightmare - it feels like half the British press is camped out at Cobham - but they can't enter his building, and they lose interest in waiting for pictures of him when they realize he plans of giving them nothing for the time being.

His second worry - that he'd lose his corporate sponsorship deals - proves to be false as well. if anything, he's getting more offers; and not just him, but they want Gwil included. The two of them both being fit, monogamous and hopelessly domestic seems to have the wholesome quality brands like, and Mark gleefully lets him know just how much money everyone's set to make off him and Gwil officially being a thing, wondering why he didn't approve of his plan to come out years ago. Not even Adidas is mad; they'll lose a little market share in parts of the world that aren't gay friendly, but the parts that are seem more interested than ever. Even his kit goes from fifth or sixth in the pecking order to first, and they have to double up orders of his printing at the club shop because they just don't have the numbers or letters to keep up. 

Other than that, though, it's normal. He goes to practice, plays matches, hangs out with his boyfriend and their dog and friends. They get takeaway, and he goes to Sainsbury's for milk when he realizes they need it, and Gwil complains when he forgets his kitbag in the entryway closet and it leaves the whole thing smelling rank.

A few pictures of them do end up on Twitter and the sports pages. The ones of him resting his head on Gwil’s shoulder as they wait for their tickets at the cinema and them holding hands while Frankie runs around the dog park get the most clout, of course. But that would happen if he was on his own, or just with a friend and not touching. 

It really doesn’t come to a head until they’re playing against Slavia Prague, and he gets a call to see the gaffer the day before they leave. The meeting is short, and Ben leaves feeling wiped, happy Gwil is there for a cuddle on the couch once he gets home. 

“I’m not going to Prague or Liverpool.”

Gwil immediately looks disappointed for him.

“Ben…”

He shrugs, “The boss isn’t wrong, not really. It’ll be bad, and I should give it time to cool down before away matches. I’m just… sad, I guess.”

“You have the right to be bothered by this.”

“I am, but I get it. They’re worried, whatever. The West Ham match was alright, they weren’t that loud, but I guess they’re thinking they knew they’d get fined by the FA for it. Prague I get, UEFA’s a joke when it comes to racism, so they’re not going to do shite when it comes to some Czech dickhead calling me a rentboy and telling me to go catch AIDS, but Liverpool seems… I dunno. I know I could manage it, as long as they didn't make me give the presser.” 

Gwil looks like he wants to say something but refrains, instead holding Ben tighter.

“I don’t want them to treat me differently, I guess.”

Gwil kisses his temple, nuzzling in close in an attempt to comfort him, “I don’t think they will. It’s just… this is very new, Ben. No one’s actually ever done this before, which means no club knows how to deal with this. They’re just trying to figure out how to protect you.”

“I know. I'll get over it, just...," Ben shrugs, "At least I get almost a week off except practices, so it could be worse.”

“I’m sure we can find something to take up our time in that week...”

Ben elbows him in the side.

Ben posts a picture of the two of them watching the Europa League match on Instagram and Twitter, the first time he's ventured on to the internet since he came out. Only their legs and feet are visible on the ottoman in front of the TV, Frankie sitting on it in between with her Chelsea bandana around her neck. He posts it with a thinly veiled jab at homophobic fans chanting about him even though he’s not there, and an even less veiled jab about the racist chants Chelsea fans got caught singing about Salah.

Gwil shakes his head fondly when he sees it, liking the tweet anyway.

“Now you’re just trying to get a rise of them on purpose.”

Ben just laughs.

The slurs aren’t limited to European teams with far-right ultras, of course. Ben’s always been good about filtering that stuff out, but it’s hard whenever ‘faggot’ gets yelled at you by a few thousand traveling fans. Chelsea faithful seem alright, and the few times things get really nasty seem to be when they’re on the cusp of winning and there’s a last ditch effort to distract him, but it’s still there.

Then he scores against Prague on the home leg, and the stadium goes quiet.

He does the same against Burnley, and then has his first ever career hattrick against Man United. He’s not ashamed to admit his hands tremble as he clutches his ball to his chest as he walks off the pitch, too overwhelmed to pay attention to what feels like the entirety of Old Trafford chanting _Hardy takes it up the arse._

Kissing Gwil after the match in the mixed zone knowing there are eyes everywhere feels pretty overwhelming, too.  


** Chelsea’s Season Has Been a Story of Individuals, Not a Team **

**_The team’s performances and results have been far off from the expected._ ** __

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_[… ]_

_Arguably, David Luiz and Marcos Alonso’s absolute shambolic seasons were the only thing that kept Ben Hardy in the squad week in and week out, the club stalwart Chelsea’s best option despite his inconsistency. When on, he’s fantastic- the match against Manchester City comes to mind- but when off he’s dreadful. While he seemed to find his groove around December, there was still much to criticize, specifically when it came to his dismal defense in the air and ankle problems keeping him out for games._

_Surprisingly (or unsurprisingly, as this is Chelsea FC) tabloid fodder proved to be the defining moment of his season, instead of his actions on the pitch. After The Sun accused him of an affair with an unnamed teammate’s wife, Hardy decided to come out as gay, acknowledging he’s been in a serious monogamous relationship of almost two years with a male partner (Welsh actor Gwilym Lee, most notable for playing Queen’s Brian May in Bohemian Rhapsody.) While most people would use this as an excuse for their poor form, it’s seemingly unleashed whatever demons Hardy was fighting all season, and his resurgence has certainly been something to behold. Five goals in three games is incredible for the defender, and fans can only hope his form will keep until next season._

The games against Frankfurt are an absolute mess, but they hold on and find themselves in the Europa League final. Ben’s smile is impossible to wipe off for a week, despite how chaotic that second leg was and the bloody nose he got from a poorly timed elbow. Gwil frets over it, and he can’t even seem to care at him turning into a mother hen, he’s so ecstatic.

They finish out the season with a loss, barely qualifying for a Champions League spot, but everyone too focused on the Europa League and finishing the season with silverware to care. 

Gwil comes with him to Azerbaijan, and is there when Ben panics the night before, pacing the room. He’s supposed to be in his own room - the club has a whole block of them reserved for families, and something in him warms when he realizes they count Gwil as family now - but Ben had been forwarded comments from Twitter that basically confirmed he’d be targeted tomorrow by the fans that had sent him spiralling. He doesn’t know why he’s nervous - he’s taken penalties in a bloody Champions League final against Bayern Munich - but he can’t shake the jittery feeling that something is going to go massively wrong.

Gwil pulls him into bed around midnight, holding him tight to his chest and refusing to let him break free.

“Whatever happens, you’ve got more trophies than you could’ve ever thought of winning, you’ve got more money in the bank than you ever thought you would, and I love you. Anyone who says or hurls anything at you can’t touch that.”

Ben slumps against him, unable to argue, and suddenly exhausted. They're going on holiday for a month when this is all over, and He thanks Gwil's foresight to book the damn thing right after the final so he can sleep for a week. 

He sleeps curled against Gwil’s chest, the only thing he has to ground him.

The next day he’s still an anxious mess. He forces himself to eat breakfast, and goes through the final preparations for the match on autopilot. Listens to the team talk, listens to the lads attempt to pump each other up in the tunnel, ignoring the way the camera seems solely focused on him.

The little boy he's walking out with keeps looking at him with wide eyes, and he smiles, placing his hands on the top of his ginger head.

"I can't believe I got you."

"Hopefully you're not disappointed?"

"No!" He shakes his little head vehemently, "I just... I got a Mum and a Da, but my Da's got a boyfriend, and people used to be mean about it but now all the kids in school think it's so cool 'cause you've got a boyfriend, too. It's nice. I'm glad it's you I got."

Ben opens his mouth to respond but he can't before they’re being lead out on the pitch for anthems and handshakes. He squeezes the kid's hand before he runs off and he beams at Ben, giving him a thumbs up before he goes.

Suddenly, he’s walking to get into position, chatting with César like he didn’t feel sick from nerves a few seconds ago.

“Ben,” César slips an arm around his shoulders, “We do this, right? Whatever they do. We’re all in.”

Ben nods, and César smiles, releasing him so he can get into position.

Ben closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and waits for the whistle.


End file.
